Permanent Ink
by Hutchie
Summary: Steve's getting a tat to commemorate 5-0.  Danny has something to say about that.  Actually, a lot to say...  Beta'd by Jazzybabe


**Permanent Ink**

by Allie

"What are you doodling?" Danny nudged Steve's hand aside and peered down at the doodle.

"It's a tattoo." Steve moved back so his partner could see. "To commemorate Five-0."

"What, another tattoo?" Danny drew his head back and peered at Steve. "And excuse me, but why do you need to commemorate us? We're all still here, still alive." He waved his hands vaguely around the room, indicating the building, Hawaii, and planet Earth in general.

"Danny, you don't only commemorate people who are no longer with us. I like my tattoos to have some deeper meaning to me, and I'm proud of Five-0 and the work we do here, so I want to get a tattoo."

Danny thought about that for a moment. Then he gave a nod. "Okay. So, your other tattoos represent, what, your time in the military? Your family?" He put his hands together and focused on McGarrett.

Steve nodded. "Some of them. Some of them represent accomplishments. And I got one after 9-11. A lot of us did."

"What, your friends?"

"Yeah, my friends."

"Well, MY friends and I stuck little American flags on our lawn and watched TV for twenty-four hours and cried a lot, like everybody else. We didn't get tattoos. But go on. How is this little—little doodle of barbed wire going to represent Five-0 and all the great work we do here?" He crossed his arms and gave Steve a pugnacious look that was almost a grin but not quite. "Hm?"

Steve stared at him for a moment. "You really want to know?" His dark eyes looked very serious at the moment, solemn and framed by long, thick lashes.

"Yeah, I want to know. What, you think I asked you just to wind you up?"

"Sometimes. But I take my tattoos seriously." He picked up the piece of paper with his doodle.

Danny raised a hand, palm up. "Then just _tell_ me already!"

Steve turned it around to face Danny and pointed to the tattoo doodle. "These four strands represent me, you, Chin, and Kono—and I added one for Lori, because it looks like she's going to be staying for a while." He looked a little self-conscious.

"Uh-huh," said Danny, his eyebrows going up briefly. "Go on. I'm interested now." He waved a hand for Steve to proceed.

Steve's eyes narrowed, and he lowered the paper. "You sure? You sure you're interested? You're not just—"

"I'm interested! I said I'm interested. Why would I lie?"

"All right." Steve raised the paper again. "The barbed wire—"

"Wait, why are we barbed wire?" interrupted Danny.

Steve lowered the paper and sighed. "Because, Danny, barbed wire is sharp and dangerous if you try to cross it. It's protective, keeping whatever's inside safe and keeping bad things out, or defensive, keeping dangerous thing corralled and quarantined, like in jail."

"So... we're a jail." Danny drew his head back and his brows high, his lips pushing out a little.

"No, we're _dangerous_. Nobody should mess with us. We're keeping Hawaii safe."

"True. That's true." Danny nodded. "I just think, you know, it could be a little more clear. Anybody looks at that— Where are you going to put it, coiled around your arm or something?" He took the paper from Steve, looked down at it tilting his head, then up at Steve.

Steve pointed to his mid-upper arm, putting his fingers as far around as he could reach to show where the tattoo would encircle.

Danny nodded. "That's great. But I bet it's going to hurt like hell."

Steve shrugged. "I don't mind. A tattoo is forever. It's worth a little pain getting there."

"Forever? What about tattoo removal?"

"I'm not planning to get any tattoos removed."

"What, you don't regret ANY of the tattoos you've ever gotten? And you're sure, you're absolutely positive, that you never will?" He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows, mouth quirking in disbelief.

"That's right. They're part of me, part of my past and who I am, the places I've been and the people I've met. I can accept all of that. I wouldn't change it for myself, and if anybody can't accept all of me, why would I want to change for them?"

"Wow, that's deep," said Danny, blinking once.

Steve's mouth pursed slightly. "Danny, if you're just going to mock me..."

"Whoa, partner." He quickly uncrossed his arms and waved his hands in the air. "I'm not. It's really deep. Everybody should be so confident. For instance, I'd like Gracie to be even half as sure of herself and her decisions when she grows up. Of course, if she ever gets a tattoo, I'll have to ground her till she's thirty, but that's another story. Now give me that paper. You see, you don't—"

Steve surrendered the paper and watched as Danny bent over it, doodling a small design twined amongst the interconnected barbed wire strands. "There." He straightened, and pushed a hand back through his half-blond hair, smoothing it back into place; it had been falling forward. He put the pencil behind his ear. "That, my friend, is what you need: something that incorporates a 'five' and an 'oh.'"

"Say, that's not bad." Steve looked at the numbers entwined with the strands. He lowered the paper and smiled at Danny. "Do you want to watch while I get it tattooed on? Maybe you'll change your mind about tattoos and get one yourself."

"No, no thank you. The last thing I want is a dirty needle piercing my skin, putting ink under the surface that will one, hurt, and two, stay there for the rest of my life—unless I get it removed, which is bound to hurt as well. And you may have heard me mention Grace? I want her to grow up ink-free, and I most certainly do not plan to be a bad influence on her."

"Bad influence?" Steve raised his eyebrows. "You think tattoos are a 'bad influence?' Maybe you just shouldn't let me be around your daughter at all."

"That's not what I meant. It's different if her father does it, or her mother."

"A lot of women get tattoos these days, you know. You're living in the Dark Ages, Danno."

Danny nodded slowly. "If they didn't have tattoos back then, hey, that's fine with me."

"You can just watch, you know. And they use clean needles. I have a guy I can trust."

Danny raised a hand, as if holding a remote and clicking a button. "You know those shows? L.A. Ink and those other shows? Like the one with Kat Whatsername?"

Steve nodded and smiled with a reminiscent look of appreciation. "She has some amazing tattoos."

"Whatever. The point is, when they come on, I flip right past and keep on flipping. I do _not_ enjoy watching needles, blood, and ink. They're a bad combination."

"I see." Steve nodded.

"Thank you."

"So you've got a weak stomach."

"What? Excuse me? Did you just say I have a weak stomach? I work in the same job as you do. Day in, day out we deal with corpses, kidnappings, horrible and gruesome crimes, and you _dare_ to accuse me of having a weak stomach?"

"Well, since you hate the sight of needles and blood so much..." Steve shrugged. "It's pretty obvious if you ask me." He picked up the paper, folded it and put it in his pocket, smirking around the edges of his mouth, tilting one eyebrow a fraction of an inch higher.

"Give me that." Danny made a grab for the paper. "You, my friend, do not deserve to have my 'five' and 'oh' tattooed on you with all that barbed wire. Give it back, I'm erasing it! Weak stomach my ass!" He called after the retreating Steve, cupping his hands around his mouth.

He looked around the room defiantly, but there was no one around to argue with or justify himself to. So he hurried after Steve, calling "Steve! Steven! Get back here. We are not finished talking."

"Oh, I think we are," said Steve. "Mr. Weak Stomach."

"Mr. _Weak Stomach_? Really?" Danny stopped in his tracks for a second, not quite caught up to McGarrett yet. "You really think I can't handle the sight of a little blood and a needle? Really? Shows what you know. I can handle it, I just don't happen to _prefer_ to. I don't happen to _enjoy_ watching people inflicting pain, getting scarred for life..."

Steve turned back. "Tattoo, Danny. It's a tattoo, not a scar. And you already said..."

"Okay, you know what? This has gone far enough. Because, unlike you, I do not happen to want to mark my body up for the rest of my life, it doesn't mean, it doesn't HAPPEN to mean that I can't stand the sight of a little blood and a little needle. We get our annual checkups, we get blood drawn, I'm good. Steady as a rock." He made a motion as if to indicate a flat sea for clear sailing.

"Uh-huh. Sure."

"Yes, as a rock. So, I am going to prove you wrong." He pointed at his partner. "I am going to go there and watch them put that stupid tattoo on you, and then we'll see who's afraid of needles, buddy!" He poked Steve on the already-tattooed arm.

Steve just smiled. "You'll love it. Maybe while we're there you'll change your mind and pick out a nice little butterfly, something tasteful, and get it tattooed on your ankle..."

"A butterfly? Really? That's what you think of me?"

"Well—maybe a lobster. No, a crab. I think a crab fits him, don't you, Chin?"

Chin was approaching down the hall, trying to keep a smile off his face. "Hey, keep me out of it, boss."

"This guy—this guys thinks I need a butterfly tattoo!" said Danny. He turned back to Steve, walking fast to keep up with him. "I'll have you know I was born in the Year of the Snake. The Year of the Snake! Does that sound like I'm the kind of person who'd want a butterfly tattoo?"

Steve and Danny continued down the hall past Chin, arguing.

"Oh, so you'll get a snake tattooed around your ankle? Like a rattlesnake?"

"I did not say that, Steven. I did not agree to that!"

"Maybe a little, local Blind Snake, then?"

"A local—" Danny stopped in his tracks. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. Just you wait one _single_ minute. I thought there were NO SNAKES in Hawaii?"

Steve smiled at him. "Don't tell me you're afraid of snakes, too. I thought you were born in the Year of the Snake. What happened to that?"

Danny pointed at Steve. "Do not start with me, Steven. Tell me about this snake."

"You mean the Brahminy Blind Snake. Haven't you seen one? Looks like a worm? It's a non-native that's been in Hawaii since the 80s. It's harmless. Oh, and they can reproduce asexually. There are only female snakes here."

Danny gaped, looking as if he'd completely ran out of words. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and then spoke. "I really, really hate Hawaii."

Steve smiled and flung an arm around Danny's shoulders. They walked down the hall, Danny at first reluctantly, then falling into step. "And you hate needles, pineapples, surfing…"

"You, my friend, are going to tell me more about these snakes—just exactly where I would find them. How can you be sure they're not dangerous? I don't want Grace being bitten by a Hawaiian snake, native or not, female or not."

"No, they're not dangerous. We'll go dig some up in the dirt and I'll show you, after I get my tattoo—and you pick out a nice, tasteful…pineapple tattoo."

Danny turned to look at him, eyes narrowing. He poked Steve in the chest. "You, my friend, are going to get it. One of these days, you are really going to get it!"

Steve smiled. "Right to the moon? Don't worry, Danno." He tightened his arm. "I'll get enough tattoos for both of us."


End file.
